Chapter 7
CALLIE
He's been gone for twelve days.
I count them every morning when I open the shop. Twelve days of making donuts alone. Twelve days of Luke asking if I've heard from Ethan. Twelve days of lying and saying no.
The truth is more complicated.
He texted once. Day three. Just: How's the shop?
I responded: Fine.
Nothing since.
I tell myself it's better this way. Cleaner. He's in Denver creating distance, and I'm here building my business. We're both doing what we're supposed to do.
It doesn't feel better.
It feels like suffocating in slow motion.
I'm restocking the display case when Luke walks in. He looks tired. Stressed.
"Coffee," he says by way of greeting.
I pour him a cup. "Rough morning?"
"Rough week. The Matthews contract fell through. I've been scrambling to find replacement work."
Luke runs a small construction company. Good work when he has it. Stressful when he doesn't.
"I'm sorry," I tell him.
"It'll work out. Always does." He takes a long drink of coffee. "You talked to Ethan lately?"
My chest tightens. "No. Why?"
"Just wondering. He's been weird on the phone. Distracted."
"Maybe the job's intense."
"Maybe." Luke studies me over the rim of his cup. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Are you mad at him about something?"
I focus on wiping the counter. "Why would I be mad at him?"
"I don't know. You both just seem off. Have been for weeks."
"We're fine."
"Callie."
I look up. Luke's expression is serious. Concerned.
"What's going on?" he asks.
Everything. Nothing. I'm in love with your best friend and he ran away because of you and I can't tell you any of it.
"Nothing," I say. "Just tired the shop's been busy."
Luke doesn't look convinced, but he lets it drop. He finishes his coffee and heads out. I watch him go and feel the guilt settle deeper.
The rest of the day passes slowly. Customers come and go. I smile and chat and box up orders. Normal routine. Normal life.
Everything feels wrong.
By closing time, I've made a decision.
I lock up the shop and go home. Pack a bag. Throw it in my car. Pull up the GPS on my phone.
Denver is twelve hours away.
I should call first, should text. I should do anything except what I'm actually doing.
I get on the highway and drive.
The miles pass in darkness. Radio playing stations I don't listen to. Rest stops for gas and bad coffee. My hands steady on the wheel even though my heart is racing.
Around two in the morning, doubt creeps in. What am I doing? Showing up unannounced in the middle of the night like some desperate ex-girlfriend. Except we're not exes. We're not anything.
That's the problem.
I keep driving.
The GPS leads me to a hotel on the edge of downtown Denver. Nice place. Expensive. Exactly where a tech consultant would stay for a corporate job.
I park and sit in the car with the engine running. My phone shows six thirty AM. This is insane. I should turn around. Drive home. Pretend this never happened.
Instead, I text him.
Me: What room are you in?
I wait. Watch the phone. No response.
He's asleep. Of course he's asleep. Normal people are asleep at two thirty in the morning.
I'm about to start the car when my phone buzzes.
Ethan: 612. Why?
Me: Open your door.
The dots appear and disappear. Appear again. Finally:
Ethan: Callie…
Me: Open your door, Ethan.
No response. But five minutes later, I'm standing in the hotel hallway outside room 612. My bag is in my hand. My heart is in my throat.
The door opens.
Ethan stands there in jeans and a t-shirt, hair disheveled like he just woke up. His eyes widen when he sees me.
"What are you doing here?"
"I don't know."
"You drove twelve hours in the middle of the night."
"Apparently."
He stares at me. I stare back. The hallway is empty and quiet. Just us and the hum of the ice machine down the hall.
"You should've called," he says.
"Would you have answered?"
He doesn't respond. We both know the answer.
"Can I come in?" I ask.
He hesitates. I watch him war with himself, and then I watch the moment he gives up fighting.
He steps back.
I walk past him into the room. It's neat and impersonal. Bed made. Laptop closed on the desk. No signs that anyone actually lives here.
The door closes behind me. I hear the lock click.
"Callie." His voice is quiet. Careful. "Why are you here?"
I set down my bag. Turn to face him. "Because I'm tired of this. I’m tired of pretending I don't want you, and tired of letting Luke's opinion matter more than what we both feel."
"Luke gave me his blessing."
The words hit like a physical thing. I stare at him. "What?"
"The day I left. He figured it out. Made me tell him the truth. Then told me he was fine with it."
"And you didn't think to mention this?"
"I needed time to process. To figure out what I wanted."
"What do you want?"
He looks at me. Really looks at me. "You. I want you."
"Then why are you here and I'm in Hearts Bend?"
"Because wanting something and knowing what to do about it are different things."
I close the distance between us. "Stop overthinking this."
"Callie."
"Stop." I put my hand on his chest. Feel his heart racing under my palm. "I drove twelve hours to be here. Don't tell me to leave."
"I wasn't going to."
"Then what were you going to say?"
He covers my hand with his. "That I'm done fighting this. That you showing up here in the middle of the night is the bravest thing I've ever seen. That I'm sorry for making you drive twelve hours when I should've driven home days ago."
"Ethan."
He pulls me closer. "I'm done running, Callie. If you still want this, want me, I'm done running."
I rise on my toes. Bring my lips close to his. "I want this."
"Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
He kisses me.
It's not gentle. Not careful. It's urgent and desperate and everything we've been holding back for months. His hands slide into my hair. My fingers curl into his shirt. We stumble backward until my back hits the wall.
"Callie." My name is rough against my mouth.
"Don't stop."
"I won't."
His hands find the hem of my shirt. Pull it up and over my head. I work the buttons of his shirt while he kisses my neck, my collarbone, lower. Every touch burns. Every breath comes faster.
We make it to the bed somehow. A tangle of limbs and half-removed clothes and need that's been building for too long. He pauses above me, his eyes dark and questioning.
"Last chance," he says. "We do this, everything changes."
"Everything's already changed."
He kisses me again. Slower this time. Deeper. His hands map my body like he's trying to memorize every detail. I arch into his touch, wanting more, needing more.
When he finally pushes inside me, I gasp. The feeling is overwhelming. Perfect. Everything I imagined and nothing like it at the same time.
"Okay?" he asks, his voice strained.
"Yes. God, yes."
We find a rhythm. Slow at first, then faster. His breath is hot against my neck. My nails dig into his shoulders. The world narrows to just this. Just us. Just the feeling of him moving inside me and the pressure building low in my belly.
"Ethan." His name breaks on my lips.
"I know. I've got you."
His hand slides between us. Finds the spot that makes me cry out. The pressure builds higher. Tighter. Everything inside me coiling toward release.
When I come, it's with his name on my lips and his body pressed against mine. He follows seconds later, his face buried in my neck, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
We collapse together. Breathing hard. Hearts racing. The room is quiet except for our labored breathing and the sound of traffic outside.
Reality creeps back slowly.
I'm in Denver, in Ethan's hotel room. We just had sex, and crossed the line we've been dancing around for months.
Luke's blessing or not, everything is different now.
Ethan rolls onto his back. Pulls me against his side. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat slow.
"You okay?" he asks quietly.
"I think so."
"You think so?"
"I don't know. Are we okay?"
His arm tightens around me. "Yeah. We're okay."
I want to believe him. Want to sink into this moment and not think about what comes next. But my brain won't stop spinning.
"Luke knows," I say.
"Yeah."
"But we didn't tell him. He figured it out on his own."
"Does that matter?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
Ethan is quiet for a long moment. "Do you regret this?"
"No." The answer comes immediately. Honestly. "Do you?"
"No, but I'm wondering what happens now."
"What do you want to happen?"
"I want to take you home. Want to stop hiding. Want to see where this goes without Luke or anyone else standing between us."
"That sounds nice."
"But?"
I sigh. "But you're here for another week and a half. I've got the shop. We're still three states apart."
"Distance is just geography."
"Is it?"
He turns onto his side, facing me. "What are you really worried about?"
Everything. That this won't work. That Luke will change his mind. That we've built this up so much in our heads that reality can't possibly match. That I drove nine hours in the middle of the night for something that's going to fall apart.
"I don't know," I finally say. "I just know that everything feels different now. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad."
"It's good." He kisses my forehead. "It's scary, but it's good."
I want to believe him. I do believe him. But the doubt sits in my chest anyway.
We lie there in the darkness. His arms around me. My head on his chest. Both of us pretending we're not worried about what comes next.
Eventually, exhaustion wins. I drift off with his heartbeat under my ear and his breath ruffling my hair.
When I wake up, sunlight is streaming through the window. Ethan is already awake, watching me.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi."
"You snore."
"I do not."
"You definitely do. It's cute."
I bury my face in the pillow. "What time is it?"
"Eight."
"Shit." I sit up. "I need to call Luke. He's going to wonder where I am."
"What are you going to tell him?"
Good question. I can't tell him the truth. Not over the phone. Not like this.
"That I needed to get away. That I drove to Denver to clear my head."
"You don't have to lie."
"I'm not lying. I did drive to Denver to clear my head."
"And ended up in my bed."
"That too."
Ethan's expression shifts. Something serious settling in. "We need to tell him. Properly. When I get back."
"I know."
"I don't want to hide this."
"I don't either. But can we have a few days? Just us? Before everything gets complicated?"
He considers this. Finally nods. "A few days. But then we tell him."
"Okay."
I get up and find my phone. Three missed calls from Luke. Two texts asking where I am.
I call him back.
"Jesus, Callie," he answers. "Where the hell are you?"
"Denver."
"Denver? What are you doing in Denver?"
"I needed a break. Drove up last night."
"In the middle of the night? By yourself?" He sounds equal parts worried and angry.
"I'm fine, Luke. I just needed some space."
"Space from what?"
From you. From the shop. From pretending I don't want Ethan. "Everything. I've been working nonstop. I needed a break."
He's quiet for a moment. "You should've told me you were leaving."
"I know. I'm sorry. It was impulsive."
"Yeah, well. You're an adult. Just... be safe, okay?"
"I will."
"When are you coming back?"
I glance at Ethan. He's watching me with an unreadable expression.
"Tomorrow," I say. "Maybe the day after."
"Alright. Call me when you're on the road."
"I will. Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm okay. Really."
"If you say so."
We hang up. I set the phone down and look at Ethan.
"He's worried," I say.
"Of course he is. His sister drove twelve hours in the middle of the night and didn't tell him where she was going."
"I couldn't tell him."
"I know."
The guilt sits heavy in my chest. Luke is worried. I'm lying to him. And Ethan and I are here in this hotel room pretending everything's fine when it's not.
"I should go," I say.
"Stay."
"Ethan."
"Stay. One more day. Let me take you to dinner. Let me have this before everything gets complicated."
I want to. Want to stay in this bubble where it's just us. Where Luke doesn't exist and the shop doesn't exist and nothing matters except this.
"One more day," I hear myself say.
"One more day."
He pulls me back to bed. Kisses me until the guilt fades and all I can think about is his hands on my skin and his mouth on mine and the way he makes me forget everything except this moment.
But the guilt doesn't really fade.
It just waits.
And I know that when we finally tell Luke, when we stop hiding and face reality, everything I'm worried about is going to come true.
The question is whether what we have is strong enough to survive it.
I don't have an answer.
But I'm here anyway.
And for now, that's enough.